


standing in the line of fire

by janie_tangerine



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (sort of i guess), Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard Romance, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Zero Preservation Instinct, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 10:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23969980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: “Jaskier,” he says, voice low, slowly stitching the wound on his supposed charge’s shoulder, “I don’t know if you missed the memo or not, but I am supposed to be the damned bodyguard. What is going to take to make you stop thinking that jumping in front of bullets for me is how this is supposed to go?”He’s not surprised when for once, Jaskier doesn’t have a witty reply but just smiles sheepishly and tries not to shrug, since the bullet had actually grazed his shoulder so he really shouldn’t move right now.“Eh,” he finally says after Geralt has stitched half of the wound, “I told you on the first day that I really don’t do well with following instructions now, didn’t I?”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 419





	standing in the line of fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Halja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halja/gifts).



> Written for the lovely haljathefangirlcat who on tumblr asked for _geralt/jaskier + 33. I am supposed to be YOUR bodyguard, stop jumping in front of bullets for me AU_ , which OBVIOUSLY went overboard because it wanted to, so... here we go with modern setting bodyguard au probably - the title is from little steven's second-to-latest, I own absolutely nothing, have some fluff. ;)

This job is so _not_ what Geralt had assumed it would be when he took it.

Not that he complains, even if _right now_ he kind of is for an obvious reason, but still, it’s only thrown him not for one loop but for a hundred by now, and this one is only the last, and it’s not that they’ve been _bad_ loops, but fucking hell, this time —

“Jaskier,” he says, voice low, slowly stitching the wound on his supposed charge’s shoulder, “I don’t know if you missed the memo or not, but _I_ am supposed to be the damned bodyguard. What is going to take to make you _stop_ thinking that jumping in front of bullets for _me_ is how this is supposed to go?”

He’s not surprised when _for once_ , Jaskier doesn’t have a witty reply but just smiles sheepishly and tries not to shrug, since the bullet had actually grazed his shoulder so he really _shouldn’t_ move right now.

“Eh,” he finally says after Geralt has stitched half of the wound, “I told you on the first day that I really don’t do well with following instructions now, didn’t I?”

He _did_ , Geralt has to concede.

For that matter, _his fucking father_ told Geralt _before_ Jaskier could, and —

Well.

Geralt, having had a _really_ bad dry spell when it came to finding work after that botched job in Blaviken where _of course_ he ended up being framed for having _tried_ to actually not see anyone dead under his watch, was not in the position to refuse a job from Viscount Lettenhove, who had just raised to fame for having made his way to ministry of war after Redania’s last elections… and needed a _cheap_ bodyguard for his son who was apparently not worth a pricey one but still needed one because you couldn’t leave any family member without supervision until he was in office. So he had taken the job, figuring that he couldn’t refuse it when he barely paid the bills these days, and resigned himself to whatever it might bring — after meeting the father, he had figured that the son couldn’t be much worse but had also really, _really_ hoped he wasn’t cut from the same cloth.

Turns out that said son, who’s named Julian but told him _please call me Jaskier, only my parents use the real one and at least I picked my own damned stage name_ was _not at all_ like his father, wasn’t interested in politics and only wanted to become a professional musician after graduating at Oxenfurt and couldn’t give less of a damn about why his father disapproved.

He also hadn’t looked at him wrong for a second, actually convinced him to spill the truth about Blaviken two weeks after they met, swore him that he _would_ write a song about it at some point even if Geralt told him that there was no fucking need for _that_ , proceeded to actually talk to him like they had been lifelong best friends two days after they met and — listen, maybe it was unprofessional and all, but Geralt _did_ like that, not so deep down. After all, when your only two friends are your foster home roommates with whom you run the bodyguard agency (who also are the only reason he could pay his bills after Blaviken) and who are also off on jobs more time than not and your only other more or less steady relationship is your lawyer ex-girlfriend with whom you end up having a thirst once every three months before remembering exactly why you’re better off as friends… it’s _nice_ to run into someone who’ll just talk to you like you’re a human being and not either a piece of meat paid to make sure you don’t die or some kind of barely-escaped-from-jail-almost-murderer just because you got framed by a piece of shit who wanted his own niece dead because she could have ended his political career.

Also, people don’t… usually _like him_ at first glance, or meeting, or whatever, and Geralt knows he’s a hard person to like and that he doesn’t make the job easier, not when he’s shit at talking shop to people or at pretending he’s good at _socialization_ (which his fucking social worker kept on harassing about for years, not that it ever worked), and instead Jaskier _patently doesn’t seem to give a damn_ and talks for two people if he doesn’t, and listen, it’s been _nice_ to spend all his time around someone who actually treats him like a human being. Yennefer would tell him his bar is extremely low, and she’d probably be right.

Anyway, it’s been six months and — it has been a _good_ job. Until _now_ , no one actually seemed to care much for Jaskier either way except a few paparazzi, and Jaskier kept on saying it was because everyone in Lettenhove knew that he and his father were not on good terms, and the most tedious thing he’s had to do has been tuning out Jaskier’s father whenever he asked for _reports_ and kept on blathering about how much his son could spend his time more fruitfully than _partaking in silly music contests_ (every single time Geralt just wants to tell him _he’s happier doing music contests than he’d be studying politics, just let him be_ , but of course he never does). Other than that, he’s learned more about music theory than he ever imagined he would, he has threatened the few paparazzi that were a nuisance, _at most_ he’s kept his eyes more open than usual if Jaskier ended up getting spectacularly drunk once in a while and he doesn’t even bother asking for free days because the commute between Oxenfurt and Kaer Morhen is too long to consider partaking. Of course Jaskier’s father doesn’t pay him for the hours he spends with Jaskier that are technically not in his contract, but — he hasn’t _minded_ that.

And then it happened that _someone_ actually realized that the Viscount _has_ a son that differently from his daughters does _not_ live with his family and is therefore an easy target, and they _did_ manage a rather decent attempt at what Geralt supposes was kidnapping him, but he had that under control and he _was_ handling it —

Until one of the criminals in questions shot him _and_ Jaskier had the genius idea of throwing himself _in between him and the damned bullet_ and thankfully it only was this superficial wound, and fuck but Geralt had almost fucking gotten a heart attack for a moment before getting his shit under control and disarming them _and_ calling the police.

And Geralt is pretty damn sure that his heartbeat still hasn’t gotten under control even if it’s been an hour and Jaskier refused to tell the medics that he was wounded because now _that_ wouldn’t have looked good on Geralt’s CV, and —

Fucking hell.

“You did,” Geralt sighs, “you _did_ , but you do realize that taking bullets for people is my job?”

“Yeah, well,” Jaskier says after he barely manages to _not_ shrug again, “I didn’t really _think_ about it. You looked in danger, I just — I _had_ to, all right?”

Geralt finishes stitching his shoulder and cuts off the thread.

“You also _do_ know that if your father finds out that you got hurt on my watch I’m fired, right?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. Very openly. “You _do_ know that I would tell him that you made sure I wasn’t hurt _worse_ and that my father only hired you to save face and not because he gives a fuck about me? He hasn’t called once since this whole thing went down, and it’s been hours.”

That’s… true, Geralt has to concede.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I — I wish I had advice. For that.” _Real smooth_ , he tells himself, but then again he never met his father and his mother just left one day when he was seven and never came back and he doesn’t even know where she is right now, _if_ she’s still alive, not that he even wants to know, so it’s not as if he’s some kind of authority on _this_ matter. On one side, it would be easy to tell Jaskier that at least he _has_ parents, but on the other… he doesn’t know how much better it is to have family who cares about you so much that when paying for your security they get the _cheap_ option.

“It’s all right,” Jaskier smiles, not much but _sincere_ , “I’ve lived with them all my life. I know how they are. And honestly, I’m quite glad that my father thought he’d get me the _cheap_ personal security.” He winks, and Geralt wishes his chest wasn’t feeling like his heart was about to burst out of it just at the damned sight because there is no way he has _feeling_ for the person he’s supposed to fucking guard and who is _jumping in front of bullets for him_ when it’s really not how things work —

“You — you are?” He says, and fuck he hates how stilted that sounded and he wishes he wasn’t like _this_ for the umpteenth time in his life, but —

“Sure,” Jaskier says, still a bit too pale but otherwise looking fine for someone who just, well, _went through a shoot-out_ , blue eyes staring right up into his own, “as much as I can’t follow instructions, I wouldn’t jump in front of bullets for just anyone.” He winks _again_ , fuck, what — “And I think that maybe I haven’t been as forthcoming as I could have been.”

“You haven’t been _what_ ,” Geralt replies, and then one of Jaskier’s hands is on his face and he’s leaned forward and his lips have pressed a lone, soft kiss against Geralt’s and he’s moved back before Geralt can even think about kissing him back, and when he moves back he’s half-smiling and half looking like he’s not so sure he should have done _that_.

“Forthcoming,” Jaskier replies, “though I thought an entire EP of songs written about _you_ would have been enough, but I suppose they weren’t as obvious as I had figured —”

“Wait, the EP was _about me_?” He blurts. He had _no fucking clue_ —

“Yeah, I realized that maybe you hadn’t grasped _that_. Then again I guess you’re not much for subtle hints, are you?”

“… Guess not,” Geralt says, and he knows his damned face is most likely flushing and fuck, he can’t even remember the last time he did _that_. “You know that if — if I kissed you back, it would be the most unprofessional thing I could do in this situation now, right?”

Jaskier shrugs, still not breaking eye contact. “And you _do_ know that I can’t give a damn for sticking to the rules _and_ that it won’t be me informing my father of this one development?”

… Geralt _knows_ that. It’s obvious, by now. And fuck, he wants to —

He _wants_ to —

“Just don’t take bullets for me anymore, how about it?” He asks, inching closer, his own hand grasping the back of Jaskier’s neck —

“Sorry,” Jaskier smiles back, “can’t guarantee that, but I’ll try just because you asked so nicely.”

So maybe it’s not professional that he leans further down and returns that kiss and moans into Jaskier’s mouth the moment he kisses back, his arms moving around Geralt’s neck at once and dragging him closer.

He thinks that for now he really can’t give a single damn about it.

End.


End file.
